Tuxedo
by MrsCuddles
Summary: He had it all: a great job, money, fame. But it all crumbled when he got a wake up call from his past. After 10 years, he's forced to go back to his hometown and face all he's left behind: his family, his friends. Her. "This is not me. This is not who I am or somebody I'll ever be," she ripped the tiara off her head, "I don't belong here. I don't belong to your tuxedo life".


**TUXEDO**

**Chapter 1**

Albuquerque.

Even after all those years, he still remembered every spot in that town where he would hide when he was a kid playing hide and seek with his mates.

He still remembered the spot where he gave his first kiss to Jenny Brookes back in 1997.

He still remembered the spot where he shoot his first basket.

He still remembered the spot where he felt happy for the first time ever.

_East high_.

And that's just where he, Troy Bolton, 28 years old, big basketball superstar, decided to go first as soon as he had lended in the state of New Mexico after 10 long years away from home.

_Home_. Just the thought of seeing all those familiar faces from his childhood warmed his heart up. He had never been one to get emotional or homesick but although he had spent 10 years of his life pursuing his lifetime dream in New York, playing for the Knicks, he had to admit the greatest happiness didn't come from a well done play-off season or an important award. No, it came from _being home._

As he walked through those halls who had seen him growing up and becoming the star he was, he realized how much he had missed that place and all those things coming with it.

He had missed Dorothy Beggins, the East High secretary, waving at him in the early morning. Her hair had turned whiter and her face wrinkler, of course, but the jokes she used to tell him hadn't become less funnier.

He had missed Bennet, the janitor who used to share his meal with him during lunch period, talking about upcoming games or girls. The mad had grown puffer, but he was still like a father to him.

Finally, he had missed his father. The one who had raised him up as if he had been the most precious treasure of his. He was who he was because of him and he couldn't wait to see those proud eyes again.

As he came to a halt right in front of the gym doors, he smiled and laid a hand on the cold, hard material. It had been too long. Definetely.

He threw his bag over his shoulder and pulled the door open, setting his foot back on that floor were he had succeeded to bring the Wildcats to win the championship. Twice in a row.

He let his eyes wander all over, noticing how much the place had changed over the years. New balls, new bleachers, new everything. But then, he saw it. His name, nice and high framed right on the top. His number shining under the morning light seeping through the big windows.

He had been dreaming of that since he was a kid and when it had finally happened, he had seen the proud, emotional look his father had sent him. It was worth all the hard work, all the sleepless nights, all the soreness in his muscles. Because in that moment, all that had mattered was the connection between father and son, two generations coming together. And he was there, a couple of steps away from him, way too busy to notice somebody had dared to step in his holy hour of P.E..

Jack Bolton had his back facing his son. He had grown older: his once shining black bangs were now sprinkled with grey strands, his hips and legs a bit rounder, yet that didn't stop him from yelling at his students. He had always been the competitive, demanding and strict type of teacher/coach, something teen Troy had hated so much until he had realized it was all because he wanted the best for him.

"They say with aging comes softening, but I think in your case they made an exception," the sound of his voice made everybody's heads turn to look at him, but he didn't care. As soon as he met his father's eyes, he knew he was going to lose it and his owns started to tear up.

Jack smiled and stepped up to meet his son in a tight hug. He patted him on the back a couple of times, as Troy let his bag fall to the floor to enjoy the moment.

"It's so good to have you back," Jack said, releasing his son from the hug and grabbing his shoulder to shake him.

"Look at you, you're even better than the last time I've seen you!"

"Thanks, coach," Troy chuckled, "You, on the other hand, look like a racoon. Are you sure you don't need a vacation?" he winked at his dad, as he laughed and turned to stand next to him.

Finally, Troy took a look at the teens lined up in front of them. Some girls were whispering to each other, some others looked at him with dreamy eyes, while the guys looked like in awe at the vision of one of the best NBA players.

"Hey folks," he greeted as he wrapped his arm around his father's shoulders, "how's the old man treating you? Is he still as good as he was back in the glorious days?"

There was a murmured hello coming from the group, still very much shocked to see a celebrity on their court. They all knew that Mr Bolton's son played for the Knicks but they had never seen him hang around in Albuquerque, let alone in their school.

"C'mon, I may look terrifying after a long flight but I've never eaten anyone. Yet," he joked, as he approached a small guy in an East High tshirt. He patted him on the shoulder and looked at the rest of them, letting his dad dismissing the class.

"That's it for today. Don't forget to hand in your application form for the basketball and cheerleading try-outs, those of you who are interested. Deadline is tomorrow, lunch period!"

As the teenagers let out a sigh of relief, happy to be out of gym period earlier than usual, Troy smiled and walked back to his father's office with him.

He launched himself on the couch next to the door, groaning as he threw his arm over his eyes. His dad took a seat at his desk, watching him carefully.

"Not that I mind having you around, but what are you doing here, Troy?"

Troy opened one eye and looked at his dad, who was leaning on his hands, locked on his desk.

"Uh? Visiting?," he replied.

"Don't give me that crap, son. It's been 10 years, you wouldn't come back here if it wasn't serious. Why? Why now?,"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he murmured and sit up, looking back at his feet.

"Troy."

"I just… I needed to.. go back to my roots, clear my mind..," he took a deep breath and looked up, staring in his father's eyes so similiar to his.

"Chad called you, didn't he? He told you,'' his dad's question surprised him but he didn't move. He just kept looking at him.

"I knew it. That's why you're here. You need to leave, you need to go!"

Troy got up from his spot and stood in front of him, looking him straight into his eyes as he felt his heart clench at his dark features.

"No, dad," he leant his fists on the desk and got closer to him, "I'm here to stay".


End file.
